


Ours is the Neutrality

by bluemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemermaid/pseuds/bluemermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House Parkinson throws an elaborate birthday party for its princess, and Ginny Weasley only attends to deliver a devious ultimatum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ours is the Neutrality

House Parkinson had very strict rules. One did not simply marry for love; there were families to be considered, alliances and bloodlines. Pansy was to be sold to the highest bidder. Once upon a time she was fine with that. Once upon a time it would have been the perfect ending to her childhood, to fall into silk satin sheets with a gorgeous Pureblood husband, and begin making heirs to the throne.

She didn't much care who he was, really. Any of them would do, as long as their blood was pure and their tie green and silver. House Parkinson had a Slytherin affiliation to uphold. Wars didn't matter, death did not matter, darkness did not matter. As long as Pansy Parkinson got married to a respectable suitor, her parents would be pleased enough. They had avoided taking sides in the war, despite their daughter's best efforts to get into Draco Malfoy's pants and turn in Harry Potter to Lord Voldemort. 

"I was simply making the best of a terrible situation," she insisted beneath their glares of disappointment. "I was simply trying to come home to you."

As for Draco, well, he'd been Pansy's best friend for ages and his family was old money, so what was the harm? But apparently the Malfoys had gotten in too deep; they were no longer approved to join House Parkinson. _Ours is the Neutrality,_ they would say, because if you had no ties then you couldn't get into any trouble; they won no matter which side fell.

Of course, if the Malfoys were off the list, then the Weasleys most _certainly_ were as well, because there wasn't a greater bias in the world than their affiliations. Gryffindor nobility mixed with a fascination for Muggles and a great big neon sign proclaiming their ties to the Order of the Phoenix? It would disgust even the most liberal of the Parkinsons, which Pansy certainly was not. 

Pansy Parkinson would never marry someone from House Weasley. But affairs were another matter entirely. 

It was only for fun; she was not in love with Ginny Weasley, not in the slightest. There was just something delightful about messing around with an enemy of her estate. Pansy's family would be scandalized if they knew; they would be furious. They would forbid Pansy from ever seeing Ginny again. That was what made it so thrilling to be with her.

That was what made it so funny when Pansy invited the Weasleys to her birthday party. "Oh, but won't it be wonderful to see their little ferret faces when they look upon our beautiful gardens and lavish home?" Pansy asked her mother, batting her eyelashes as she affected an innocent stance and a look of girlish glee. "What better way to show how resilient we are, how... _neutral._ We'll be inviting all the most influential families."

Well, how could they resist their favourite word? House Parkinson would be host to the most tolerant and most gloating party of all time, somehow simultaneously.

*****

"Ooh, little Miss Weasley," Pansy squealed, placing a hand upon Ginny's shoulder. "So dear of you to come to our little party."

"Yeah," Ginny said flatly, striking a pose of such pitch-perfect indifference that it gave Pansy a shiver. The game had truly begun. "Little," Ginny continued, waving her hand idly across the grounds.

It was impossible to miss the sarcasm, but then Pansy had invited it with her own choice of words, the affectations she had picked up from her parents, _so dear_ and _our little party._ People grew up but they still played at life as though they were children. Pansy still felt like a girl on the inside, all shaky uncertain and fumbling her way through life. She put on words and gestures as though they were makeup.

The party was enormous, actually, great big sprawling tents and tables and musicians and floating fairy lights all around. Everyone who meant something was there, with their entire families besides, and sprinkled in amongst the hordes of the wanted were the few Unwanted folks who had only been invited for appearance's sake. _Ours is the Neutrality._ It was laughable, really, for everybody knew whose side House Parkinson was truly on.

Ginny had been invited purely to rub in in her face, to proudly yet silently exclaim how much better the Parkinsons were, how richer and more luxurious, how luckier. At least that was how Pansy had coached it to her family. She had her own reasons for wanting Ginny to be there. "Come on, darling, let's get smashed and have sex in the coat room," Pansy murmured, giggling as she tugged on Ginny's elbow, sashaying her hips whilst pulling Ginny along in her wake.

There was a dangerous glint in Ginny's eyes, the very expression which excited Pansy most, which made her knickers wet and her head swim. It was Ginny's expressions that had lured Pansy into this relationship, that had driven her away from rich boys with fast broomsticks. Ginny had a fast broomstick, too, actually. "You wanted me to be at this party, Pansy," Ginny said, in a low silky voice, dangerously alluring. "I plan to be here. I'm not hiding in a closet with you tonight."

Pansy laughed and shook her head, enjoying the feel of her dangling earrings caressing her skin as she moved. Maybe Ginny would put her tongue there later, right where Pansy's head met her neck. She shivered just imagining it. "Oh, really?" Pansy asked; she leaned in close, put her lips to Ginny's ear. "You plan to fuck me right here on the grass, dear?"

"You'd love it if I did," Ginny replied, then pulled away so fast it was as though she'd Disapparated; Pansy blinked for a second, confused by the sudden rush of empty air, and then she stared hard at Ginny, who was drifting away with that look in her eyes that made Pansy want to jump her.

It wasn't _fair._ Pansy had planned this party and she had planned to glide through it like the princess she was supposed to be, glittering and gleaming and making Ginny Weasley want to pull her into the nearest alcove. Instead Ginny was just _staring_ at her and moving away while licking her lips, and it was driving Pansy absolutely mad. It wasn't fair in the slightest.

Yes, Pansy was the whole point of the party, and she was always flattered when anyone stared at her or gave her attention, not just Ginny Weasley. But she had planned everything to a science and she hated it when she didn't get her way.

Well, at least there was cake to be had. That was something of a solace.

*****

Pansy pulled this big show of surprise to discover that she was seated next to Ginny for the dessert. Of course, by this point in the evening, Ginny was _supposed_ to be flushed and mussed and embarrassed to have stumbled out of a broom closet with Pansy's lipstick on her collar. But as the Weasley girl had been avoiding Pansy all afternoon, such was not the case. No, instead little Miss Ginny had been sauntering about with the Patil twins looking as though she hadn't a care in the world, as though shooting Pansy sultry looks across the garden wasn't torturing her secret lover to death in the middle of a hot day.

She couldn't avoid the cake, though. It was the largest cake Pansy had ever seen, but of course it was only to be the very best for the princess of Parkinson Manor on her twentieth birthday. There were plenty of people around her to enjoy it with, as well, and Pansy gave her sweetest of smiles as Ginny received her piece. "It's a special recipe from Paris," Pansy said proudly, waving her fork in the air. "It cost my parents a fortune. But then, some of us can afford it."

"Careful, Pansy, or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of a wand," Ginny replied. She shoved a forkful of cake into her mouth, leaving a smear of frosting on her upper lip. "Delicious."

And wasn't it just the bitchiest thing to do but to lick that frosting off as slowly as humanly possible, knowing full well that Pansy was itching to do the very same? Honestly, sometimes she even wondered why she was dallying about with Ginny in the first place, if the girl wasn't going to be subservient to her superior.

But then that was the allure, wasn't it? To have a true match, to have a strong and powerful woman to fight for dominance with, to be stood up to in a way which Pansy hadn't had very much in her life. Not that she would ever admit to that being a reason for her infatuation with Ginny Weasley. No, surely it was just the soft shine of her brilliantly red hair and the dangerously sexy way she walked. That was about it.

Surely it was just a physical thing, the rising goosebumps Pansy felt rippling up her flesh as Ginny trailed her fingertips up her leg beneath the table. Their eyes met and Pansy raised an eyebrow, parted her lips to speak, to fire off some witty remark about foreplay being frowned upon at the dinner table. But Ginny just looked so damn _casual_ that it froze Pansy's speech. The girl was really trying to get under Pansy's skin, wasn't she? How infuriatingly exciting.

Ginny kept her face perfectly still, her expression calmly stoic as her hand kept drifting, her fingers sliding up over Pansy's knee, skimming the edge of Pansy's pink silky dress, toying with the fringe before slipping under the hem, squeezing Pansy's flesh before exploring farther. Pansy gasped for air as the world turned to grey around her, everything fading from her vision save the look on Ginny's face, as though she hadn't a care in the world, as though touching Pansy did nothing to her, the sense of danger obliviously ignored. "Tell me more about this cake," Ginny said. "Where is this expensive bakery you speak of? You know I have quite a bit of extra Galleons these days; I'm a Quidditch star now, if you'd forgotten."

Pansy hadn't forgotten and she didn't appreciate being talked down to, but she found it hard to formulate thoughts when Ginny was touching her so intimately. All around them were talking guests and haughty Parkinsons pretending to enjoy themselves, and here the woman of the hour, Pansy herself, was being teased mercilessly by a girl, and a Weasley, no less. All she could do was gasp as Ginny let her fingers slip between Pansy's thighs, danced a teasing line over the curve of her thigh, all the while rambling on about her stupid Quidditch team.

Pansy had imagined sneaking Ginny into a back room of the house, being pleasured by her on a lounge chair or up against the wall of the pantry, secreted in a narrow closet where they could press their bodies together in private. Instead she was being touched by the expertly deft fingers of Miss Weasley in the middle of the gardens, at the center table of the party, and there was absolutely nothing Pansy could do about it.

She could gasp and wiggle in her seat, close her eyes and savour the rush of warmth and tingles that swept over her body, but every movement was being watched, every eye all around her could pierce the facade of normalcy at any moment. Pansy had no choice but to be still, to struggle with containing her increasing desire to kiss Ginny with open mouths in front of everyone. She squeezed her legs together, trapping Ginny's hand between, and stared at her, her eyes burning with passion. "You've never seen my parents' house from the inside," she said, keeping her voice light, dancing over the syllables, the invitation, the desperate begging. 

"And I never will," Ginny replied, forcing Pansy's legs open again beneath the table; she had always been stronger than Pansy physically, and although Pansy had fancied herself stronger emotionally it appeared that this was not true at all. "I'm not welcome inside and you know it. I've got dirty fingers that have been touching Muggle things. Your Mum and Dad wouldn't like such dirty fingers touching their things, now, would they?"

The implications were _oh_ so clear, as Ginny slipped those fingers beneath the band of Pansy's knickers, entering from the side and making Pansy want to cry out in a combination of shock and pleasure. She would never have imagined that this could thrill her so, being touched under a table at a party, and yet her heart was pounding painfully inside her chest, and she had never felt more alive than at that moment.

Ginny was an evil, evil girl, stroking the skin just outside Pansy's pussy, making Pansy burn with an aching desire. Somebody on her other side leaned in to ask a question, but Pansy could not reply, merely snarled at them in a passionate fit of wordlessness, a fierce declaration that she wished not to be disturbed.

"The girl loves her cake," Ginny said to the Parkinson cousin, whose name Pansy had temporarily forgotten; if Ginny kept going as she was, Pansy was likely to forget her own name in a moment. "Best you don't try to speak to the princess while she's enjoying it."

"Oh, shut up," Pansy growled at her. "You make sound like an absolute pig."

"Because you are one," Ginny replied, lowering her voice. She grinned devilishly. "You want it bad, don't you?" Her fingers kept going, gliding up and down so tortuously slowly, avoiding the hot center as Pansy became more and more frustrated, her cheeks burning with heat as a thin sheen of sweat broke out over her forehead. 

"You know I do, stop being such a bitch about it," Pansy said.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you request something of me?"

"I am not doing this," Pansy said tightly, gritting her teeth. She had to regain control, get the upper hand. She was the Parkinson princess, she was the devious one, she was the bitch. Ginny Weasley was supposed to be a diversion, a fun bit of pretty to play with until Pansy grew bored of her and ditched her on the side of the road somewhere far away from home. But she was at home right now and she had no desire to ditch Ginny whatsoever. "Can't we go inside or something? Please?"

"But you haven't finished your cake yet," Ginny said, nothing but sweet and innocent and infuriating. She slipped her finger over the burning, aching nub at the center of Pansy's core, rubbing slowly all around it and sending sparks of white hot pleasure all through Pansy's body, magic rippling over her skin. "We're just two innocent little girls having cake."

Pansy jerked in her seat, then glared at her surroundings, forcing her face into something resembling normalcy and not at all like the expression of a girl being fingered in public. Ginny touched and rubbed her expertly, as though she did this all the time, her fingertips brushing over Pansy's clit as she leaned in close, smiling as though she were sharing nothing but an amusing anecdote with the birthday girl. "This is what you get," Ginny said to her, flashing her teeth in a smile that was somehow both sweet and ferocious. "You wouldn't dare to be mine in public, so I'm making you. I'm gonna make you come in front of all these people and none of them will ever know, because you're too much of a scared little girl to confess to fucking a blood traitor. Well, you are fucking a blood traitor, and it's me. So deal with that, Pansy."

She slipped her fingers into Pansy's cunt then, fucking her slowly. Sweat began to break out on Ginny's forehead as well as she worked, as she stared Pansy in the eyes and forced a breathy laugh, something meant to be innocent though it was twisted with arousal, arousal and fire and desperation.

Pansy felt sick. It was true, everything that Ginny said to her as she brought Pansy to the height of pleasure, as it pulsed through Pansy's nerves like a song, as she whimpered with the force of it. Pansy had only invited Ginny to this party so that she could hide her away like a secret, flaunting the deviance of it while hiding behind closed doors still. She would never have started this, a public declaration of passion, of infatuation, of lo--

Wait. Pansy came down from the high as the last wave of her orgasm washed over her and receeded, like a wave upon the sand. She had not just confessed to the L word, no, never. There was nothing about Ginny Weasley that deserved that emotion. Not her daring or her strength or the way she smiled when she'd given Pansy pleasure, as though nothing brought her more joy in this life. No.

"Pansy, darling, are you all right?" Pansy's mother was staring at her daughter as though something were terribly, terribly wrong with her, indeed. "You look flushed. Would you desire a rest in the lounge? It is rather warm out here." She glanced over at Ginny, who sat like a cat eyeing its next meal – playfully, innocently devious. Madame Parkinson gave her a distasteful look.

"I'm fine, Mother," Pansy replied, wiping her hand over her forehead, brushing the strands of hair off her face. "I was merely enjoying a nice moment with my guests."

"I'm Ginny Weasley."

"I know who you are," Pansy's mother replied, her voice clipped. "I expect your family was too busy to attend with you?" Polite conversation in a condescending tone of voice – Parkinson neutrality at its finest.

"Something like that," Ginny replied.

"Pansy, do let me know if you need anything," her mother told her. "The musicians are just arriving and I've got to give them their proper instructions." She hurried off in her pointed heels, walking gracefully over the grass.

"You're never going to tell her, are you?" Ginny asked, appearing to deflate before Pansy's eyes, to shrink down into the little Weasley girl she had been once upon a time, back when Pansy had first laid eyes upon her at Hogwarts and felt the first stirrings of intrigue.

Pansy shrugged and took a delicate bite of her cake; it was delicious. "It's not as though we're ever going to be married or anything," she said bitterly.

Ginny gave her a knowing smile. "No, we're not," she said. 

For those were the ways of Pureblood families; you weren't doing your duty until you settled down and started popping out little heirs to your throne. It didn't matter who you fucked on the grounds of your manor or which woman you fell in love with over a snog and a tale of destinies unwanted. It was simply what was expected of Pansy Parkinson. She never had done the right thing, whatever thing that was. 

"Well, I'm going," Ginny said, rising from her seat, wiping her hand surreptitiously on the skirt of her dress. "You know where to find me, should I be needed to deliver you another lesson in keeping secrets."

"There's nothing wrong with secrets," Pansy snapped, watching her start to walk away. It felt awfully final all of a sudden, which made her heart hurt with a dull, distant ache that could not be defined. 

Ginny tossed her shimmering hair over her shoulder. "Isn't there?" she asked, without even looking back, and Pansy felt hot all over, this time not from pleasure but a rush of burning shame and frustration.

"Get back here, Weasley," Pansy cried, getting up from the table, putting her hands on her hips and using her brattiest voice, the one which got her everything she wanted. Ginny did not stop, continued to walk away, did not even look back and touched Parvati's shoulder as she passed the twins.

Pansy was furious, for what the hell was she supposed to do at this moment? She could hardly declare her love across an enormous party full of family members who would disown her the very second she opened her mouth. This wasn't like shouting out Harry Potter's location in front of a crowd of stalwart Gryffindors; this was Pansy's _entire life_ stretching out in front of her, her place within House Parkinson and her future as a rich and admired socialite. _Ours is the Neutrality._ What a load of bollocks.

She could have done something, she supposed. She could have run after Ginny and taken her hand, begged her to stay and kissed her full of the lips. She could have gone away with her, moved into a cozy little flat and lived off of Ginny's Quidditch salary, made friends with Ginny's friends and had peaceful nights together sitting and talking and loving without any negative influences to sneer down upon them for their deviant lifestyle. Pansy could have done those things, but...she did not.

Pansy Parkinson watched Ginny Weasley walk away, and all she felt was a deep yawning emptiness opening up right before her feet. She was a coward who did not have the strength of mind to abandon everything she had grown up with, to turn against her family and the ideals she had been raised to revere. House Parkinson was anything but neutral, and Pansy walked those lines right alongside them. She could not break away...not even for love.

She would tell herself that she never had loved Ginny Weasley, especially over the coming weeks, as her owls went unanswered and the floo remained empty. Pansy would tell herself it had only been a summer fling, that it was disgusting to pine after a Weasley, and that she would be happier in the long run. She would tell herself that, but she would not believe it.


End file.
